


The Light That Burns Twice as Bright Burns Half as Long

by Arashikitt03



Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Angst, Basically macaque adopts MK au, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Macaque gets attached au, Monkie kid au, No beta we die like Monkeys, Panic, Panic Attacks, TW: Blood, TW: Major Injury, actually scratch that, like at all, macaque adopts MK (kind of), macaque is starved for any sort of positive attention, macaque is touch starved, macaque just latches on, mk is a ray of sunshine, so the moment that anyone shows him a shred of common decency, there will be a custody battle, wukong is not happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arashikitt03/pseuds/Arashikitt03
Summary: It was a simple plan, really: put the seal on the kid, train him so that the seal could absorb his power, and then steal it once the process was complete.How was Macaque to know he’d get attached?
Relationships: Macaque & MK|Qi Xiaotian, Sun Wukong & MK|Qi Xiaotian
Comments: 13
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Time for my second fic babey! Basically this is an au of episode nine where Macaque starts to see MK as his kid during their training together, which results in Macaque sort of adopting the teen.  
> Sun Wukong, of course, is not happy with this development at all.

When Macaque had first spotted the kid, he had immediately been drawn to him. The aura that seemed to flicker from him was warm, bright and comforting, like a ray of sunlight in the afternoon. It was light and fun and silly, and it reminded Macaque of a child’s laughter for some reason.  
But there was something else there too, something ancient and powerful and nothing like the aura of a mortal should be. It was familiar to Macaque, the raw strength hidden behind a trickster’s mask, and he tried desperately to remember where-  


The realization snapped into him only when he finally noticed the ornate, red and gold staff strapped to the kid’s back, the familiarity slamming into him with the force of a crashing mountain, crushing him beneath it’s oppressive weight. That was Wukong’s staff. The Monkey King’s most well known weapon and source of power, possibly the most powerful relic on the planet.  


And it was being wielded by a pathetic, human child. Anger had bubbled in Macaque then, simmering and burning away at the corners of his vision like lava. How dare this pathetic human? Had Wukong, the Great Sage Equal To Heaven, really stooped so low as to give a mere human his staff? It was an insult! That power could’ve been his, and instead it was given to this, this… this CHILD!  


He’d contemplated, then, whether or not he should just kill the boy then and there and be done with the day. It would be so simple, just a quick snap of the neck. Humans were so fragile, it was honestly a miracle they had lasted so long in the face of much more powerful, demonic creatures.  


Macaque had dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came. No, he didn’t want to attract the attention of Sun Wukong himself, not as he was now. He’d have to be sneakier about this, if he wanted to avoid any trouble.  


Suddenly, an idea bloomed in Macaque’s head. Raising one of his paws, the dark monkey summoned the dark purple seal to his fingertips. A small wisp of purple smoke curled up from his palm, forming a dark, glowing orb of energy. He grinned before clenching his fist, extinguishing it in a small trail of smoke.  


Yes, that was a much better idea than killing him outright. Sure, it would require patience, and a lot of acting on his part, but if all went according to plan…  


Macaque backed into the dark shadows of the alleyway, reveling in the darkness they brought as they consumed him. A sharp smirk grew on his face.  


Watching Wukong’s face as he destroyed him with his own powers would be so much more satisfying than just killing some kid.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

His first real meeting with the kid had been… interesting. Everything had gone according to plan, of course: catch the kid’s attention with a shadow clone avatar, have the avatar beat him, show up and defeat the avatar while looking as cool as possible. The kid had been impressed, and Macaque could feel the admiration pouring off of him in waves as he had scrambled to the top of the building Macaque was on.  


It was a nice feeling, to be recognized and admired.  


It was completely shattered when the kid had realized he wasn’t Wukong, and had ever so kindly pointed that out to his face with a small hint of disappointment in his voice.  


But Macaque, with his impressive self-restraint, was able to just barely bite down the growl crawling up his throat, turning his grimace into an awkward smile. He needed the kid’s trust, and he couldn’t have that if he snapped at him.  


Maybe this was a bad idea, a part of him thought. He wasn’t exactly known for his patience, or his people skills, and the kid would probably be comparing him to Wukong the entire time if Macaque did decide to “train” him.  


Yeah, no thank you.  


But as Macaque started to leave, the kid jumped up yet again, rushing in front of him with clear awe and excitement.  


“Can you teach me that awesome thing?!” Oh hell, he looked so excited and hopeful, like he really wanted Macaque to teach him. Macaque backed away slightly, so the kid wasn’t up in his face.  


“Uhh… don’t you already have a master? I thought Monkey king was training you?” Please take the bait please take the bait…  


Thankfully, the kid did, backing away slightly and, to Macaque’s surprise, looking a bit… disappointed. Like he wasn’t getting what he wanted from training with the great Sun Wukong.  


Suddenly, that small voice of doubt vanished in Macaque, replaced by interest. Maybe… maybe he should continue with this plan. He smiled to himself, anticipation brewing in his gut like a storm. Layering on as much flattery as possible, Macaque looked back at the young human.  


“But you can never have too many teachers, right? I’m sure Monkey King would agree? It’s not like he’d want to hold you back!” Yes, Macaque could see the temptation growing in the kid’s eyes, the desire for more. He could see the beginnings of doubt, dissatisfaction toward the Monkey King, slowly being stoked by Macaque’s carefully chosen words.  


“Ummm… Yeah! Yes, he’d totally be cool with it!” That was a blatant lie, but Macaque let it slide. He needed the kid’s trust if he wanted this plan to work.  


He slung his arm around the kid’s shoulder, leading him to the edge of the building. He called the seal to his fingertips as he did so, quietly pushing it into the kid’s aura, before letting his paw slide from Xiaotian’s back.  


Now, all he had to do was wait.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

Macaque was losing his mind.  


Three days. That was all it should’ve taken for the seal to fill up completely. That was the most it ever had taken, and that was only because Macaque had been unable to complete it at the time. So, the seal on Xiaotian’s back should’ve been full to bursting by now.  


And yet, when Macaque had finally decided to check it, he’d found that it was barely at 5%. At first, he’d thought it was because the kid hadn’t been using his full power.  


But then he’d thought back to the day before when, in a fit of frustration, the kid had blasted a hole clean through the side of a small mountain. Aside from scaring the absolute shit out of Macaque, because holy fuck this kid is strong, that one blast alone should’ve filled up at least 20% of the seal. Clearly, that was not the case.  


Which left two options: either a) Macaque hadn’t correctly applied the seal (an idea that was very quickly disproven with a second check), or b) the kid’s aura was so strong, it was somehow messing with his seal. It was honestly the only option that made even a bit of sense: After all, the kid’s presence had been enough to draw Macaque’s attention even amongst a large crowd of people.  


Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that Macaque could do to fix that. Maybe if the seal had been incomplete, he could remove it and replace the old seal with a new, complete one. It would’ve been a pain, sure, but he could stand to wait an extra day or so. But this… this wasn’t something that he could fix. If he removed the seal now, then all his hard work from the past three days would go to waste, and he absolutely would not let that happen.  


Macaque sighed as he sat next to Xiaotian. The kid was out cold, curled up on the small futon that Macaque had set up in one of the rooms of his dojo. The kid had been exhausted, worked to the bone by his boss, Sun Wukong, and Macaque himself, and had come into the dojo two hours earlier with dark purple bags under his eyes and a bad case of bedhead. They’d trained for about an hour before Macaque had told the kid to get some sleep, unable to watch the kid try to clumsily strike him only to trip over his own feet.  


It was odd, really. Macaque typically wasn’t the type to enjoy being with others. He was a loner, had been for hundreds of years now. And he’d enjoyed it! No burdensome connections, no one to carry but himself, no one to tie him down to any one place. Besides, he found humans to be too annoying and needy, and demons were often so pretentious it made Macaque’s eyes want to roll out of his head. In the end, it was better just not to bother.  


And yet, the kid had somehow managed to begin worming his way through all of Macaque’s barriers with an ease that, if he was being honest, scared him a fair bit. He’d spent years, years, building up those walls, making sure that every crack, every little weakness, was sealed up and airtight.  


...Only for a kid, who Macaque had absolutely planned on killing, whom he had only met three days ago, to bypass all of that as though the walls had never even existed in the first place.  


Macaque began to panic. If he got attached, if he actually started to care about Xiaotian- no, he couldn’t start calling the kid by his name, he’d get even more attached- if he actually started to care about the kid, then not only would he be unable to execute his plan, he’d be making himself vulnerable. He’d give himself a weakness, one that other demons would exploit.  


He could not, under any circumstances, let that happen. He needed to distance himself from the kid as much as possible.  


But at the same time, he would need to maintain the kid’s trust. If he removed himself too much, then the kid would stop trusting him, and all of that time and work would go to waste. Which, again, was not an option.  


Macaque stood up, glaring down at the sleeping human. It would be difficult, pulling off that type of balancing act, but it wasn’t impossible. It would take a couple of months, a lot of patience, and really, really good acting on his part, but he could do it.  


Besides, the kid was the apprentice of his worst enemy. How hard could it be?

—————— —————— —————— —————— ——————

He couldn’t believe this. It was absurd. Ridiculous. An absolute waste of his time. And beyond that…  


“C’mon Macaque! I need to show you this one game! You’re gonna love it!!”  


...It was embarrassing. It was so, so embarrassing.  


Qi Xiaotian had come into his dojo about an hour earlier, somehow buzzing with even more energy than usual and excitement making his eyes glitter like a diamond in the sunlight. When Macaque had asked the kid what had him so excited that he was literally vibrating, he’d expected it to be something along the lines of ‘Wukong finally taught me a new move’, or ‘Pigsy finally gave me a day off!’, or something else along those lines.  


What he had not expected was for the kid to start ranting about some new video game that had apparently just come out today. The kid had been talking so fast that Macaque couldn’t understand about 90% of what the kid said, and the 10% he could make out made no goddamned sense. Who the hell was Minecraft Steve? And on top of that, what the fuck is a “Sans”???  


When the kid had finally finished, Macaque had sat there for a moment, just trying to process what had just happened. He’d probably looked like an absolute idiot, just sitting there staring.  


After a few seconds of the kid staring at him expectantly, obviously waiting for some kind of response, Macaque had finally stuttered out a small “that sounds interesting”, before attempting to discuss the training plan for the day.  


He’d gotten maybe three words out when Xiaotian had interrupted him, excitedly asking if he played any video games himself. Macaque had been so startled that he responded without even thinking.  


“Uh, no. Why?”  


That had been his first mistake.  


The kid had gasped, giving Macaque a scandalized look. It was almost comical, the fact that the young human looked so affronted over something as simple and mundane as a video game, and Macaque couldn’t help but laugh a little.  


That had been his second mistake.  


“You’ve NEVER PLAYED A VIDEO GAME?!!” The kid gave him an incredulous look, mouth gaping. Macaque rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, his tail twitching nervously.  


“Ummmm… no? It’s not that big a deal-“  


Mistake number three.  


At that, Xiaotian had grabbed Macaque’s hand and began walking out of the dojo, eyebrows knitted together in clear determination. It had taken all of Macaque’s strength to  


Macaque dug his feet into the floor, halting Qi Xiaotian even as he struggled to tug Macaque along with him. The kid was strong, that was for sure, and it took most of Macaque’s not inconsiderable strength just to be able to slow them to a stop.  


“Whoa whoa whoa, easy there kid. What’s with the hurry?”  


“You’ve never played a video game before! How is it that you’ve lived, like, 500+ years, and yet you’ve never played a video game?” Macaque shrugged nonchalantly.  


“I have other, more important things to do. Besides, they can’t be that good-“  


Yet another affronted gasp from Xiaotian had Macaque chuckling to himself. The kid was too easy to get a reaction out of, honestly.  


“THAT!! That right there! That’s why I need to take you to an arcade! There’s too many games for you not to like at least one!!” Macaque had immediately sobered at that. He’d been to an arcade once, many many years ago. He’d been curious, seeing the bright lights and hearing that strange music, and had gone in to see what the big deal was. It’d been loud, smelly, and bright, and Macaque had lasted all of two minutes before it became too much. He’d washed himself for hours that night, but the nasty grease-sweat scent had lingered for days.  


Needless to say, not an experience he wanted to repeat.  


Macaque had opened his mouth, the word no already on his tongue, when the kid had given him this...look.Like a kicked puppy, but even sadder somehow, with wide pleading eyes and clasped hands and shit, now he felt bad, but he shouldn’t be feeling bad at all, because it’s not like he cares about the kid, right?  


The monkey let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.  


“Fine, we can go to the arcade. But we’re gonna do double training after, got it?” Immediately, Xiaotian’s face lit up, and the excitable human began to bounce around excitedly.  


Which was how Macaque ended up standing in the middle of a small arcade on the smaller side of town, being dragged about by an excitable human teenager like a child being dragged by their parents around the grocery store.  


Macaque couldn’t even get frustrated about it. Oh, he’d been pissed on the walk here, for sure. But then the kid had smiled at him, and he looked so goddamned happy that Macaque was going with that he couldn’t find it in himself to snap at him. He’d even started to feel excited about going, before he remembered that arcades are loud and smelly and full of people, and by that point it had already been too late.  


“OH MY GOD, THEY HAVE MONKEY MECH 3??!?! MACAQUE WE HAVE TO PLAY IT!!!” Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face as his protege dragged him toward one of the brightly colored games.

—————— —————— —————— —————— —————— 

Shit. Shit. Shit. How had he let this happen? How could he have been so damn stupid?  


Macaque paced the darkened halls of the dojo, tearing at his hair in frustration. Xiaotian- no, the kid, he was the kid dammit- was fast asleep in one of the small office rooms, curled up on the spare futon that had effectively become his bed. Training had run far longer than either of them had been expecting, and it had started pouring rain as well. The kid had shyly asked Macaque if he could stay the night and, wanting to check on the seal’s progress, Macaque had obliged.  


It was more than two thirds of the way full. Which, given that a month and a half had passed since he last checked it, made sense.  


What didn’t make sense was the distinct dread that overcame him upon that discovery, turning his insides to ice and causing worry to twist in his stomach. Dread quickly turned to confusion, which became anger, which gave way to one hell of a realization.  


He’d fucking grown attached. The one time he absolutely needed to remain distant from someone, and of course he had gotten attached. He’d done the one thing he needed to avoid, and now it would make it even more difficult when the time came to actually remove the seal.  


It was just… he’d never had anyone be genuinely happy or excited to hang out with him, or talk to him, or anything like that. Usually, people reacted to him by either running away or, if they were smart, just pretending he wasn’t there. He’d never had anyone talk to him, never had anyone who actively sought him out so that they could just… hang out. The few who did try to actually look for him usually did so in an attempt to kill him, not that they ever did.  


And he was fine with that! He was perfectly fine with being alone, perfectly fine with having no one but himself to rely on. It was something that had worked out for him in the past 500 years, that isolation, and it was something that was much easier to maintain than some dumb relationship that would last for all of a few decades before the sword of Damocles would come calling. It meant that Macaque was safe, free of any potential weaknesses for an angry demon or vengeful human to exploit.  


But then Xiaotian had shown up, and proceeded to tear down everything Macaque thought he had known about himself. For the first time in his life, Macaque knew what it was like to have someone care, to have someone who saw him as a real person with feelings and wants and opinions, and it was addicting. Xiaotian saw him for him, not as that one demon who tried to impersonate Sun Wukong that one time, not some horrible monster, but just someone who was trying to survive in a fucked-up world all on his own.  


The kid had listened to him whenever he spoke, just because he was genuinely interested in what Macaque had to say. He’d notice whenever Macaque was having a bad day and try to help him feel better, bringing over fruit and noodles for them to eat together after training.  


And slowly, Macaque had begun to do the same for the kid. He found himself genuinely interested in whatever the kid would rattle on about, found himself feeling actual concern whenever the kid showed up to train with bruises or injuries. Whenever the kid had a bad day, he’d offer up one of the rooms in the dojo for Xiaotian to spend the night away from Pigsy or Tang. On Fridays, they’d go to an arcade or restaurant, and spend an hour or so there just… talking. At some point, he’d started looking forward to their training sessions as his favorite part of the day, just because there was someone who expressed real care for him.  


Which would be great, if it wasn’t for two little things: a), the kid is also being mentored by his worst enemy, and b), MACAQUE WAS STILL PLANNING ON BETRAYING THE KID! Except now, the mere thought of that made Macaque feel sick with guilt as he imagined the confused, hurt look Xiaotian would give him if he did, begging to know why, what had he done wrong, why did Macaque betray him?

...But he didn’t have a choice! If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t go through with the plan, then he’d lose everything! All that progress, all that hard work, wasted! He’d be alone for the rest of his life…!  


‘And if you do go through with it, you’ll end up pushing away the only person who cares about you.’  


Macaque froze, ramrod straight. His arms fell to his sides as the sounds of the night permeated the air. He stood in the darkness, surrounded by the shadows of his regret.  


“Oh,” he said quietly, as tears dropped from his cheeks onto the cold, wooden floor.

—————— —————— —————— ——————

He removed the seal that night, while the kid was asleep. It had been easy, easier than he expected, and the resulting golden glow from the kid’s aura made it worth it. He’d basked in the glow until he’d finally fallen asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, the kid was gone. He’d panicked at first, believing that Xiaotian had somehow found out about the seal and the plan and that he hated Macaque now and was gonna get Sun Wukong and-  


And then he’d seen the kid’s note, saying that he needed to go to work and he’d be back at around 6:00, and Macaque breathed a sigh of relief.  


....Before cringing slightly at his earlier panic. It hadn’t even been a whole day since he’d decided not to betray Xiaotian, and he was already panicking about the kid turning his back on him? What was he, the kid's father?  


Some deep part of him said yes, before he quickly shoved it back down. No, he was not the kid’s parent. Mentor? Maybe. Friend? Honestly, yeah. Parent? Hell fucking no. He already had enough to worry about without mother-henning the reckless young adult.  


Slowly, Macaque went about his day. Went out into the city to get (read: steal) food, fought a demon or two for the hell of it, watched people from atop a building, before he headed back to the Dojo to get ready for the day’s training session with Xiaotian.  


Macaque checked the clock as he finished up. 5:55. Excitement rose within him. The kid said he would be here at six; he should be arriving soon.  


Macaque tried to hide his excitement as he waited, leaning against the front door. He’d gotten rid of the seal, Wukong didn’t know about him, and Xiaotian still wanted to train with him. All in all, this had been a good day for Macaque.  


The minutes ticked by. 6:00 became 6:30, which became 7:00. Excitement became concern, which quickly turned into anxiety. Xiaotian was never, ever this late. Hell, the kid would usually be so excited to train that he’d show up ten minutes early, before Macaque could even finish preparing for whatever training they would be doing that day.  


Macaque checked his new phone (Courtesy of an impromptu shopping spree with Xiaotian). Nothing from the kid saying he would be late. Actually, aside from a message from this morning that mirrored the paper note he’d found on his desk, there was nothing at all. Nothing to say the kid would be late, or that he wouldn’t show up.  


That was what spurred Macaque to start running through the city, leaping across rooftops with ease. In just a few minutes, he was almost to the kid’s apartment, wind in his fur as he turned the corner-  


Rubble. Yellow police tape everywhere. Massive scorch marks that streaked the walls and ground. One of the walls of the apartment had been destroyed, leaving a gaping hole.  


There was the scent of blood and burning flesh. 

Macaque couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t B R E A T H E. 

He stumbled away from the scene, from the flashing light of police cars and the scent, that horrible scent-  


It was Xiaotian’s scent. Gods, that was Xiaotian’s scent, mixed in with the blood and burned flesh, and something had- someone had hurt him- someone had hurt his kid-  


He was running now, rushing to the hospital because his kid was injured and he needed to be there to make sure he was alive and ok, because he couldn’t lose the one person on the goddamned planet who cared, or he would go insane. Guilt crashed over him in waves, he should’ve been there, if only he’d been there-  


He doesn’t remember the trip to the hospital. He doesn’t remember transforming into a finch and flying around the building, doesn’t remember the search at all.  


He does, however, remember finally finding the kid’s room. He does, however, remember the short, old doctor saying that he had several 3rd degree burns, multiple broken bones, and that he may never be able to see out of his left eye ever again.  


He remembers, so vividly, finally catching sight of the kid’s battered and burned form, bandages obscuring the entire left side of his face, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose.  


He will forever remember just how pale the kid looked.  


Like he was dead.  


Macaque flew to the roof of the hospital, clumsily transforming back as he skidded to a stop. He fell to his knees, staring numbly down at the concrete rooftop. He was dimly aware of the tears that silently streaked down his face, but he could not feel them.  


He couldn’t feel much of anything.  


Why? Why couldn’t he have just one person who cared? Why did the universe have to take the only person who gave a damn?  


Anger, slow and hot, began to burn at the tears. Why the hell did Xiaotian have to be the one to get hurt? Was it karma for Macaque? Was it the universe’s way of getting revenge for all of his misdeeds?  


But if that was the case, then why had Xiaotian been the one who got hurt? Why had Xiaotian been the one to almost die, to have his bones shattered, his flesh burned, his blood spilled? Why hadn’t Macaque been the one to suffer, instead of a kid who did nothing but give a monster the hope to be better?  


“WHY??!!”, Macaque screamed to the heavens, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE-ta-take me….. wh-why didn’t you take me instead...why….?” his voice broke into a whisper, as his tears burned like liquid fire in his eyes.  


The heavens, cold and uncaring and so unlike Xiaotian’s warmth and light and kindness, gave him no answer.


	2. What the Shadows Bring to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see Wukong's pov during all of this, and boy is he not happy with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... sorry for the wait? I know that y'all have been waiting for this, a well as chapter three for Molten Gold Frozen Silver, and I promise that it's in the works! I've just been stuck in editing limbo for a while, combined with one hell of a writer's block and school work raining down from the heavens (word of advice: do NOT take AP Physics alongide AP Macro Econ, AP English, AND Pre Calc, ESPECIALLY if you are bad at math!). But I Had this chapter done and, well, I figured you guys deserved something. 
> 
> Not Beta'd because of course it's not.

Wukong liked to think he had a sixth sense when it came to certain things. In a way, he sort of did, what with the golden eyes and demon sensing capabilities. But he also liked to think that he had a sort of foresight, an ability to know if something bad was on the horizon even if there was no observable indication for it.  


It was something that had grown even stronger as he started to train Qi Xiaotian, which he attributed to the kid’s almost _uncanny_ ability to stumble upon powerful demons, most of whom hadn’t been seen in well over 300 years. Seriously, the kid’s ability to get into trouble would have almost been something to be respected, if not for the fact that he made it _very difficult_ for Wukong to restrain himself to the sidelines whenever Xiaotian got in over his head. The kid needed to learn how to do all of this himself, after all: eventually, he’d need to grow out of the Monkey King’s shadow.  


Which was why he’d been attempting to ignore the overwhelming feeling of wrongness that had been slowly creeping up in the past three months. It had started when his friend, the daughter of one of the dragon families, had called Xiaotian in a panic during his training one day. Something about a giant monster destroying the city, they needed the kid’s help to stop it, yada yada yada. Nothing too out of the ordinary: the kid had dealt with this sort of thing before, Wukong was sure he could handle it on his own. No reason to be worried.  


...That was until Wukong got a glimpse of the creature from the kids phone. It was a tall, dark purple creature, covered in massive swaths of bandages that fluttered slightly in the wind. One glowing purple eye was covered by a large X mark where one of its eyes should've been. Immediately, all the proverbial alarms went off. He knew, _knew_ , that he had seen that creature somewhere before, but every time he tried to remember just who or what it was,he came up blank.  


So, he’d let the kid go and fight. An uncharacteristic sense of worry had settled in his gut, as if trying to warn him that something, _something_ was wrong.  


Wukong, for the first time in almost twenty years, was unable to go to sleep that night. Worry and anxiety were a crushing weight on him, his mind wandering down dark paths as he attempted to lull himself to sleep.  


This led to him being rather… _irritable_ the next day, snapping at Xiaotian in his sleep deprived state. The look the kid had given him, frustrated and confused and hurt, caused a tidal wave of guilt to crash over him, and he had cringed slightly before offering the kid a bag of peach chips as an attempt at an apology. He’d taken them, and hurt and frustration were replaced with a pleading look of concern and disappointment that somehow made Wukong feel even shittier.  


At least the kid had been ok.  


This tension, this oppressive anxiety, continued for three months, fluctuating in severity. Sometimes, it was barely noticeable, nothing more than a small buzz in the back of his head. Other times, it was thick and heavy, covering him like a weighted blanket, stifling the air from his lungs and making his ears ring. There was an ever present danger, lurking beneath the calm veneer of his training with the kid, and it scared him, terrified him in a way that he could safely say he'd never felt before. Something, _someone_ , was after his successor, and Wukong had a feeling that whatever it was, it would be much more powerful than the Demon Bull Fam.  


And then, last night, something changed. He’d been jolted out of a restless sort of sleep in a panic, terror and worry and dread suffocating him in the beginning of a panic attack as visions of Xiaotian laying bloodied and burned on the ground flooded his brain, shoving out any thoughts of calm or peace that tried to tell him that his kid was safe, that wasn’t- isn’t real, his kid was _alive-_  


_Macaque_. Wukong’s blood froze. No. No no _no nononono._ Macaque was _dead_. He’d been dead for years, gone like dust in the wind. He’d been there, he’d been the one to do it. He’d seen the light vanish from Macaque’s eyes, heard his final breath.  


_Macaque was dead._  


But even through those self-assurances, even as he replayed the memory on loop in his head, he knew. He knew Macaque was alive and well, that he was still out there, _that his kid was in danger-_  


And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creeping dread lifted. Fear, terror, concern, they all rushed from him like a village before a demon, leaving him tired and drained and confused as hell. The dread-feeling, the ever-present anxiety that Wukong had begun to just accept as a part of his life now, just disappeared, poof! Even the low humming, the slight buzzing in the back of his head, was gone, and for the first time in three months, his head was quiet.  


Wukong sat back on his little cloud, head in his hands as he sighed. He was being ridiculous. Macaque was absolutely, 100% dead. He’d been there, he’d seen it with his own two eyes: Macaque was dead. Gone. Absent from the world of the living. He couldn’t hurt Xiaotian.

His kid was safe.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

The next morning, the kid had shown up to Flower Fruit mountain at exactly 12:30. He seemed happy, bouncing around the cave with his usual boundless energy. There were no injuries that he could see, aside from a small bruise on the kid’s forehead that he got from running into a tree on his way here. The kid was happy and appeared to be fairly relaxed, no hidden worry or fear in his eyes to suggest that anything bad had happened.  


In fact…  


Wukong surreptitiously activated his demon sight. Xiaotian’s aura, which always glowed the same golden color as his own, was _way_ brighter than Wukong could ever remember seeing it. Even when the kid had first lifted the staff, when his aura had first flared out like a small supernova, it hadn’t been as strong as it was now.  


Just what had happened?  


“Hey, Xiaotian. Did anything… particularly _strange_ happen last night? Anything that you can remember?” The kid stopped what he was doing and looked up at Wukong curiously.  


“I… I don’t think so? Why?” Concern flashed in the kid's eyes, followed by anxiety and fear, and Xiaotian blurted out “Did something bad happen? Did someone from the court of Heaven send you a message?! DID-“  


Wukong shoved a peach chip at the kid’s face, effectively shutting him up. Wukong let out a heavy sigh.  


“No, kiddo, it’s nothing like that. It’s just….” Wukong fell silent. That nagging worry, the concern and protectiveness surged back, like the waves at high tide. He didn’t want his so- _his successor_ to freak out, as the young human was prone to doing.  


Wukong closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. He’d have to tell Xiaotian eventually. Better to rip the bandaid off now.  


“You know how I have the ability to see demons? Even when… even when they’re in disguise?” Xiaotian nodded, of course. He was still a massive fan boy, after all.  


“Well… that ability, it’s not just limited to seeing demons in disguise. I can also sense them from miles away, regardless of whether or not they’re in sight. Kind of like- like a um, a spider-sense, if you will.” Xiaotian nodded along, looking fascinated, as Wukong continued.  


“Basically, depending on how close the demon is, how powerful it is, and how malicious it is, I’ll get this sort of… buzzing in the back of my head, or my ears will start to ring. Usually, most demons are barely strong enough to set it off, and even if they are able to, usually they’re too far away for me to notice.” He looked down at Xiaotian and braced himself. This was going to be difficult.  


“The past three months… it’s been going off constantly. And it was… It was loud, way louder than just about any other demon I’ve faced. It… it was strong enough to trigger that little warning in my brain, from… from all the way in the city, I think. For something to trigger it that much, from that far away…” Wukong trailed off at the dawning look of horror on Xiaotian’s face. Shit. _Shit._ This was not going as planned.  


Xiaotian looked up at him, eyes wide and shining with clear concern and apprehension, and Wukong knew he needed to say something before the kid worked himself into a full-on panic. _Now._  


“But then, something… changed, last night. Do you remember, earlier, when I said that one of the things that determines how strong the… the “sense” is, is how malicious the demon or whatever triggering it is? Well… last- last night, the activity, or intent, or, or whatever, it peaked for a bit, before just… vanishing. Completely. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I was wondering, if you… if you knew anything about it? About why… about what was triggering that demon sense?” But the kid was already shaking his head, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face as he did so. Damn.  


“I don’t think so… I mean, the only demons that have attacked the city in the last three months were some small fry and the Demon Bull fam, and even they’ve been pretty quiet…” Xiaotian trailed off slightly, and worry stewed in Wukong’s gut. Even an hour later, as he waved the kid off, it lingered in the dark corners of his mind, like a poison. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.  


And Wukong had a bad feeling that it would have something to do with the vision of Macaque he’d had last night. He could only hope that Xiaotian would stay out of it.

————— ————— ————— ————— —————

_Stupid._ He’d been so, _so stupid._ He’d known, known that something _bad_ was going to happen, and he’d been right in all the wrong ways.  


Wukong had never wanted to be so wrong before. Not like now.  


It had been about three hours after the kid had left Flower Fruit when he’d felt it- that punch to the gut, heart being crushed, no air in his lungs feeling that sent him to his knees, gasping for air that just wouldn’t come as panic drenched him in a massive tidal wave. He’d known, with absolute certainty, that something had happened to Xiaotian, that his kid, _his son,_ was badly hurt, that he needed to be there, _he needed to help-_  


Wukong couldn’t remember ever flying that fast before. He’d zipped down Flower Fruit Mountain like lightning, rushing over the city to where he knew Xiaotian’s apartment was. He needed to make sure his kid was okay, he needed to _protect his kid-_  


The scent of blood, warm and metallic and nauseating, overwhelmed him as it was accompanied by smoke and burned flesh. Wukong felt his stomach turn as he leapt off his cloud, ducking into a nearby alley to empty his sensitive stomach. Good Gods, what had happened? What had happened to his successor? His scent was woven in to the blood and burned flesh scent, ripe with terror and pain and oh, _Gods_ , his kid was _hurt-_  


Wukong rushed out of the alley to see the apartment, and immediately a new, fresh wave of horror overwhelmed him. The front wall of the place had been blasted to smithereens, the rubble littering the sidewalk around him. There were cracks in the pavement beneath his feet, interspersed with dark scorch marks and, to Wukong’s mounting horror, small bloodstains. Small fires still burned all over, stinking of smoke and burning plastic. The human fire department was there, along with police and an ambulance-  


Wukong’s breath hitched. Xiaotian. Xiaotian was in that ambulance, he was sure of it.  


He needed to get in that ambulance. Now. He needed to see, needed to assess how bad the damage was, needed to make sure his son was _alive-_  


Wukong rushed back into the alleyway, quietly transforming into a small butterfly, before making his way over to the vehicle. One of the windows, up at the front, was still opened slightly. Good. Wukong slipped in to the driver’s side, and landed on the back of the driver’s chair for a moment. There were two doors leading to the back, both of which were shut. Luckily for Wukong, there were two small, square windows that he could just barely see through.  


What he saw made him sick.  


His apprentice, his successor, _his kid,_ was laying on a stretcher, bandages covering his head, arms, and chest. His jacket and headband had been removed, as had most of his t-shirt, throwing the small parts that hadn’t been bandaged yet into stark relief. There were some parts of the skin that were blackened, blood still seeping through the cracked and burned skin. The skin that wasn’t burned, bandaged, or bloodied, was pale and wane, sickly looking, like that of a corpse. Xiaotian’s dark brown hair was a mess, covered still in dust and debris and sticky with blood. An oxygen mask covered the boy’s mouth and nose, and Wukong couldn’t stand to look anymore.  


He flew off of the driver’s chair to land quietly on the floor, curled up slightly in the back corner as he tried to just… process what he’d seen.  


The world had been muted, blurred to him. Darkness creeped at the edges of his vision, everything becoming an indistinct blob of color and shadow. The ringing in his ears reached a new pitch, interspersed with a low, hollow thumping sound that he would later realize was his own beating heart. He heard the sounds of the ambulance starting up as though he were underwater, muted and drowned out by that ever present ringing-thumping in his ears that only seemed to grow louder as he saw, over and over again, visions of Xiaotian happy smile turning into a broken look of terror as fires consumed him, leaving nothing but a burnt husk comprised of only ashes and bones….  


Wukong jolted forward as the ambulance came to a stop. When had they started moving? When had they arrived at the hospital? 

Wukong couldn’t remember.

He heard the sounds of the stretcher being moved, heard the sound of wheels on pavement as he flew from his little spot on the floor to the still-open doors of the vehicle, fluttering around as doctors and nurses swarmed his kid. They, rushed into the hospital, pulling him towards the emergency care center.  


He fluttered after them, still transformed as a butterfly. He just barely managed to slip through the door, following the doctors and nurses and that stretcher, he needed to be close by, he needed to tell the kid- he needed to tell him-  


Wukong started lagging behind them. He was too small, his wings wouldn’t beat fast enough, and the Emergency Care doors slammed shut before he could reach them, echoing with all the grim finality of an executioner’s blade.  


Wukong stared unblinkingly at the doors. He felt numb, muddied and blurred and overwhelmed in a way that left him fluttering slowly to the clean, cold white tiles of the hospital floor. Too much. It was all too much. His kid was hurt. His kid was in critical condition. His kid was in pain. He’d seen his kid, just a few hours earlier, healthy and happy and alive on Flower Fruit Mountain, safe and sound and _there-_  


And now he was hurt. Now he needed an oxygen mask just to breath. Now, he was burnt and bruised and broken, his only kid, his child-  


Wukong’s breath hitched. He was no longer in the hospital. He was no longer transformed. He was in an alleyway right next to the hospital. The sky had grown darker, swirling with pinks and reds and oranges as stars slowly began to make themselves known. Tears were streaming down his face, warm and wet, leaving damp trails in their wake. He was crouching over, hands covering his mouth as quiet sobs shook him to his core. He could see each little crack in the pavement, each small blade of grass that was struggling to come up through the concrete and reach for the sun.  


He hadn’t remembered leaving. He hadn’t remembered transforming back. He hadn’t remembered much of anything, really.  


He hadn't been able to tell the kid that he was sorry. He hadn't been able to apologize, because he hadn't been fast enough. (If he'd been fast enough, his kid wouldn't be in the hospital in critical condition).  


It scared him, not knowing what had happened.  


It scared him, the possibility of finding out what had happened.  


His kid. His boy. _His son_. Wukong had known, for a bit know, that he cared about Xiaotian as more than his successor. But this…. Gods, he didn’t even know how to _begin_ to process this.  


Guilt came rushing in. _He’d known._ He’d known that something bad was going to happen, he’d felt in his very _bones_ that his son was in danger, and he’d foolishly let him go with false comforts that the kid could handle himself, that Xiaotian was strong, that his friends would help him.  


He remembered, now, sealing away Xiaotian's invulnerability. What the _hell had he been thinking, doing that?_ Why had he ever, _ever_ thought that was even remotely a good idea?  


And now, Xiaotian was paying dearly for it.  


Whispers began playing in his head, a polyvocal taunt that attacked from all sides. _Your fault_ , they whispered. _It’s all your fault. You could’ve been there, you could’ve gone with. You knew something was wrong, yet you waved him away to his doom._  


_And just how many times has he had to fight alone?_ The voices taunted him, as fresh guilt rained down upon him. _How many times did he leave training with you to fight some demon on his own? How many times did you let him go? How many times did he get injured because of your negligence?_  


Wukong couldn’t breathe under the weight of the voices. He couldn’t hear anything else, he couldn’t see through his tears the setting sun. _Your fault, your fault, your fault-_  


“WHY??!!” The voice, that all too familiar voice, cut through the whispers like a knife. Wukong felt his blood run cold.  


_Macaque._  


_Macaque was here_. Alive and well.  


Macaque, a _dangerous, very much not-dead demon_ , was near Xiaotian.  


Xiaotian, who was put into the hospital.  


Xiaotian, who had severe burns all over his body. 

Xiaotian, who was either in critical condition or a coma, and as such unable to fight back should Macaque decide to kill him.

_Hell no._

Wukong stood up. He felt cold, empty. Anger flowed like the stream of a winter river, sharpening his vision to a pin-prick sort of clarity. He saw, clearly, each blade of grass, each window of every building, each little dust particle in the air.  


His ears were deaf to everything but the sound of rushing water (or was it his own blood that he heard?), the silence settling over him like a blanket. He heard nothing, not even that dull ringing that had tormented him through the day. The rushing water, the dull beat of a war drum (or was that his own heart?) stayed, however, a symphony of soon to be bloodshed as Wukong slowly floated up from the sidewalk.  


His golden eyes were empty of everything but cold, clear rage as they landed on the dark form of the Six-eared Macaque, who was on his hands and knees, trembling. 

Good. That would make the next part all the easier.

Wukong raised his fist, ready to send Macaque flying. He would _not_ fail Xiaotian again. He would end this, this string of failures, starting here and now with this final blow-  


Only for Macaque to raise his head to the heavens, face twisted in fear and regret and agony and _loss_ , and scream, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD??!!? WHY?? Why did- didn’t you…. why didn’t you t-take me in… why didn’t you take me instead? Why……”  


Wukong stepped back in shock as Macaque shook with sobs, his paws clenched against the concrete of the rooftop. Rage was undercut by confusion, then suspicion. Just what was Macaque playing at? Just _what_ was Macaque, who was a certified lone-wolf, who _despised_ any form of bond with another being, doing having a mental breakdown on top of a hospital?  


“Why did you have to take the kid….” Wukong felt as though his stomach had turned to stone. Dread creeped up his throat once more.  


“How do you know Xiaotian?” Wukong snarled as he gathered energy in his palm, aiming for Macaque with furious intent.

**Author's Note:**

> So those of you who follow me on tumblr might notice that there are some parts of this chapter that look... different.  
> That’s because I decided to actually edit it a little bit instead of just immediately copy-pasting from the word doc like usual. Hopefully this version is a bit better.


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